Servant of Evil
by lynnsilver
Summary: "You are my princess, and I am your loyal servant. Destiny divided, the path between two twins. I'll do anything for the sake of protecting you. If I must become evil, this is something I will do."-Servant of Evil Hetalia Dark!Amecan fic based on the Vocaloid song "Servant of Evil" :D I own neither Hetalia nor the song. Warnings inside.


A/N: Hetalia Dark!Amecan songfic based on the Vocaloid song Servant of Evil :D However, because of guidelines, I cannot break apart lines of lyrics and write accordingly. Some people do that but I want to play safe. So I'll just link the lyrics and hopefully you can follow the story ._. The asterisks are to account for sudden switches in time and/or location. Enjoy ^^

Lyrics here:(starlightskies).(deviantart)(.com)/art/Serva nt-of-Evil-English-Lyrics-178936384 (remove brackets and spaces when typing in link)

Warnings: Slight violence, OOCness, eventual angst

Disclaimer: You know what, I don't even think I own the dirt between my toes. But since this is not a Marxist society, I do own something, just not Axis Powers Hetalia.

Umm…Mr. Beilschmidt, could we hear a fairytale?" asked one of children.

"Yeah an awesome one! One with princesses and princes and knights in shining armor!"

One of the children leaned forward and whispered, "Maybe…even a real one about some of the adults here."

Perhaps, in the world we lived in, that was ridiculous. But this was no ordinary place and these were no ordinary children. Gilbert sat himself down on a large shiny obsidian rock jutting from the ground. Not as comfortable as his throne, but it would have to do.

"Kesesese~ don't worry Lieblings, I have an awesome one just for ya!"

"A real story about one of us, you say?"

A strand of soft, icy white hair brushed against Gilbert's right cheek as the girl sat herself down onto him, her knee-high leather boots still a mysterious pristine white despite the grimy ground, crackling fires and falling ashes.

"Aww, Julchen, way to ruin my awesome!"

The girl just rolled her eyes, "Come on, Gil, you might be the Devil but I'm Destiny, I know way more about how the people here got here."

"Yayyy, Miss Beilschmidt, could you tell us a story instead?"

"Well…whatever! Telling stories are unawesome anyway!" Gilbert huffed, but made no attempt to get up from beneath his sister.

A pair of cerulean blue eyes gazed thoughtfully into the hellfire on the horizon. There was no need to warn the children that the tale had no happy ending. They had asked for a real tale and this was Hell. The children themselves, as young as they seemed, had managed to land themselves here and transform into demons, which said enough. Most of them had just made a pact when they were living children to save their families, but there were those were truly evil enough and one had made a pact so his mother would wander the earth for all eternity as a ghost. Julchen closed her eyes momentarily and when she opened them, a song slowly filled the room…

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, the fertile soil bathed golden by the prosperity of the people and the hearts of the rulers, the smell of spring nettle wafts through the air, heavenly light shines in from a church window, lighting up the faces of two tiny blessed infants, the tolling bells and chirping pigeons welcoming their arrival.

The smiles of the nobles held sincerity, but greed was evident in their eyes. The king and queen of the kingdom was respected but very aged, and once they both died but none of the young twins were of age to rule, one of the nobles would be given power as regent. "Look at them, Kiku, they have matching golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, like the wheat fields and pristine lakes of our kingdom. This is a good sign," said the superstitious queen. The quieter king just nodded, but a smile tugged at his lips.

"Such a shame, I too think those are quite beautiful children," Destiny sighed, but a job was a job. It was quite amusing though, how little effort it took for her to tweak things a bit here and there, and everything that had seemed so certain would fall to pieces. Like how a tiny pebble thrown into a pond could send off such far-reaching ripples. And now, she had to throw in that tiny pebble into the peaceful waters of the golden kingdom.

The man snuck furtively into the nursery, a devious grin upon his face. The plan was perfect. Amongst the nobles, a compromise had been reached. As it was still uncertain which of the two twins would come to rule as king, they had been split into two groups. One would come to power if Alfred ruled and this was his group. But the other would come to power if Matthew ruled. However, all of those words on fancy parchment paper could be shredded up and tossed out the palace window as the man held a tattered spell book in one hand, ancient Latin words of a dark magic chant emerging from his quivering lips. A pair of innocent blue eyes watched as strands of purple wafted into the air and engulfed the said infant's vision before he could cry out.

The last few months had been dire. A mysterious sickness had plagued the kingdom and despite the best efforts of the most skilled doctors, the king himself fell sick with the very illness. The queen herself was not afflicted with it, but was very worried. And as a thunderstorm raged outside the palace, the wind and rain banging ferociously against the rattling windows, the queen and the nobles stood solemnly around the sickly king lying on his deathbed. The medicine was made from best herbs taken from the furthest reaches of the fertile land and the sheets were made of the best Egyptian silk. There was much talk on the streets of a cure in progress; one could easily reach the royals in a week. That was it. All he had to do was to hold on for another week. But as the queen felt a cold, bony hand clasp weakly around her wrists and looked into the eyes of her lover, she knew it was too late. It was over. The image of his beautiful face blurred away as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

"Hush, Alice, please don't cry…"

Trembling with sobs, she reached out to touch his cheek just as an ear-piercing shriek rang out from not far off in the palace. The caretaker of the two royal infants burst into the room, not even bothering to knock twice.

"Your Highness, there is a…situation going on with the younger with the twins! You must come with us right away!"

Alice had known the caretaker, a man by the name of Francis Bonnefoy, for a very long time. He was the type to enjoy life and work at a leisurely pace. He was also known for his politeness and excessive attention paid to many customs and traditions. She would make berated anyone else for rudely barging in, but what happened was so un-Francis. It must be highly urgent. She could already a sinking feeling in her chest. As she departed, a few royals followed but before they could get past a few words in chiding Francis, he cut them off.

"This matter is of the highest confidentiality, my lords. I'm afraid only the Queen is permitted to know of the matter and it is up to her discretion to disclose it. Please kindly return to the king's room and accompany him."

The royals were at a loss of words at the caretaker's sheer audacity. The Queen curtly dismissed them and rather reluctantly, the royals bowed and returned the king's bedroom obediently, their seething anger still evident in their eyes. Despite her sharp and confident words, the Queen could not have been more anxious. Just what in her kingdom was going on?

Finally, the duo reached the bedroom of the royal twins. Even in the scarce moonlight, lightning momentarily lit up the chubby face of the younger twin and the Queen gasped, grabbing fruitlessly for support from a nearby coat hanger, her breath coming out in short, ragged wheezes.

His eyes…

Her vision started to blur again. No. This couldn't happen. What had she done to deserve this? But there it was, as plain as could be. Matthew's eyes were no longer the same cornflower blue of his brother's. They were a sickly, malevolent violet. Never had she seen such abnormal eyes. It had to be the mark of Satan. Her own child, a member of the highest royalty, carved from her flesh and blood, had the devil's eyes.

"Your Highness, I beg of you, do not be distraught."

The Queen could only continue sobbing, leaning against the wall for dear support, She felt a pair of hands grab her cheeks and turn her face away from the wall.

"Alice Kirkland…"

Her weeping died down as she stared at the man before her, having regained her focus. Never before had he addressed her like that.

"Alice, I hope to speak to you as a friend and not a servant. You have always kindly cared so much for others and I know you truly love Matthew. You cannot bear to see him hunted down no matter what."

Alice had to admit to that. It didn't matter if Matthew was the spawn of the devil himself, she could not bear to see him get killed.

"And this is why I have brought Miss Yekaterina Braginskaya with me today. She will sneak Matthew away to the countryside where he will be safe. We will establish contact, but keep it to a minimal to avoid arousing suspicion. I suppose the decision to reveal the truth to Matthew can be decided on later."

A woman emerged from the shadows. She wore typical farmer's clothes and looked somewhat motherly. She curtseyed "It is a great pleasure to meet you, your Highness."

Alice's resolve hardened and gave the go ahead to Francis. As much as it pained her to be separated from Matthew, she understood it was the only way for him to survive. As Matthew's new caretaker held him in her arms and snuck out a low window into the night, Alice Kirkland vowed to herself that whatever happened would only be known to the three of them. The secret would remain confined in a cursed nursery on a stormy night, or perhaps buried six foot deep in the clutches of a dead queen.

She walked back to the bedroom, but something inside her was already whispering that it was too late. As she caressed his limp, lifeless hand, the surroundings nobles weeping with fake grief, a jolt of realization hit her. Alfred was the only one she had left. It didn't matter if he had to grow up without a father or a brother, or that she would be very busy with matters with state. To make up for that, she would give him the best there was and everything he asked for. She would not let the last person who mattered slip away from her.

Why? Why did they keep doing this? Why didn't they know their place? It made no sense. He was the prince, he was to be respected! He kept the filthy peasants in line and ensured the royalty were fed and clothed to the finest! Why did they keep wanting to take his power away? Why were there so many who were jealous of his glory? All this thinking made his head hurt. All he wanted was to be back on his silk bed and listening to a soothing instrumental piece, eating brioches and drinking afternoon tea. Well, these unworthy lowlifes were not worthy of a headache anyway. Instead, he just sat silently and watched as his loyal servant cleaned up the blood left behind by the dead body of the failed assassin. Dark, viscid venom shone in his eyes under the light of the candles.

"Matthew, I want everyone remotely involved in this treacherous plot tracked down and beheaded."

"Yes, your Highness."

Alfred had never done this. He had never once rewarded a servant, no matter how stellar their performance. But Matthew had never let him down and he knew of no one remotely close to his level of competency.  
"Matthew, you have always been my most loyal and faithful servant. What would you like as a reward?"

Matthew just gazed at the prince thoughtfully. He thought of little Alfred, golden hair shining in the morning sunlight, the sweetest smile upon his face, youthful eyes gleaming with delight as he frolicked through the rose garden. He thought of the young boy, giggling sweetly as he listened to a funny bedtime story. He thought of the little prince, innocent eyes brimming with curiosity as he gasped at the beautiful white horse provided for his riding lessons. No one understood Alfred. No one understood that he wasn't a spoilt, vicious, uncaring brat. No one understood that he was a clever, sweet young boy who was just misunderstood and doing what was necessary. No one understood that their cutting words could shred up his heart. No one understood the late queen was good to him but never really there, and when she died, of the same very illness that had claimed the king, he was left sad and all alone. But Matthew did. It didn't matter if no one else would love him, would protect him, would care for him. Matthew would. And in that moment, he realized he didn't want gold or silk or food.

"Your Highness…I want you to smile."

And Alfred smiled. He thought of all the happiest moments in his short life and gave Matthew the most dazzling, honey-sweet grin. It was the middle of winter, snow was piling outside the palace, the room was barely heated and Matthew's clothing was scarce. But in that second, the sweet strands of Alfred's smile seemed to coil deep into his heart and warm him from within like hot honey lemon tea, erasing all doubt.

That was him. Alfred's favorite servant and confidante. A polite man of few words by the name of Matthew Williams. He had shot up the ranks with a reputation of being efficient, remarkably hard to shock and with eyes that had seen it all but tight lips that questioned nothing and whispered not a word out of line. As Alfred found himself drawing closer to him, as dangerous as that might be, he realized Matthew's iconic quietness was not due to any traumatic event or a stoic and enigmatic personality, but just an innate shyness. Unlike the many other servants, he never once looked shocked or disgusted by the most extreme excesses Alfred engaged in for entertainment, never carrying any look of fear or distrust. He seemed to trust Alfred in a cute and naïve way, against all logic, genuinely happy as well whenever Alfred smiled. Despite his sweetheart personality, he was very versatile and effective at handling dangerous situations, such as killing the culprit of the latest assassination attempt on the prince with a clean stab through the heart and nothing more.

When Alfred first met Matthew, he had applied to be a royal guard of the lowest rank. The assessor stood near and Alfred happened to pass by as he was on a hunting trip. And Alfred had laughed. The scrawny, nervous boy didn't look like he could last a day. The assessor asked Matthew what he aspired to be. The boy remarked, his tone serious and lacking light-hearted exaggeration, "I want to be the Prince's personal guard."  
Alfred laughed even harder. Raising an eyebrow mockingly, he emerged from the bushes, striding confidently towards Matthew. Tilting the boy's head with a single manicured finger, he asked,

"So you will protect me for forever and a day?"

Matthew's eyes sparkled and a light blush dusted his cheeks.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness"

Alfred leaned closer.

"And you will do anything, anything at all?"

"Anything, Your Highness."

Alfred scoffed. That was what they all said. All of them so prideful, swearing that they were men of their words. But when he then asked them to complete a task, they would exclaim it was impossible though he had asked him to accomplish the task and not measure its ridiculousness.

Pointing to a random farmer on the horizon, he ordered, "Kill him as brutally as you can."

The assessor chuckled. For weak, nervous little Matthew to actually murder someone?

"If you wish, your Highness," Matthew whispered, only audible to himself.

Matthew snuck up behind the man and drove a knife through his back. He could have drove it through his head and killed him instantly, but the prince had told him to prolong it. The man cried out and tried to turn, but Matthew twisted his arms behind his back and shoved him face first into a tree. He pulled the dagger out and lopped off an ear, twisting the man's arms in an awkward fashion and dislocating them with a sharp tug. Slowly, the assessor watching in horror and Alfred watching in barely concealed amusement, Matthew slowly nipped away, an improvised club to the head, a dagger through the eye here, a cut off nose there, a snapped off hand, then a broken spine, bit by bit, until all that was left was the bloody, mangled ruins of a body at the bottom of the tree trunk. As assessor stood paralyzed to the forest ground with shock, Alfred just chuckled.

"I want this boy to be my personal guard and servant."

Matthew had felt nothing. He had felt nothing when he killed that man or the person after that or any of them. Because he knew they deserved it. Because they took away that dazzling smile of Alfred's, they had dared to cause him pain. And he had to believe in that. He had to believe that Alfred was the pure, innocent and sweet boy Matthew loved, he had to believe those people were genuinely causing him sorrow. Well, so what if they weren't? When Matthew killed that man, Alfred had laughed and smiled.

To the north of Alfred's kingdom was a perpetually cold land where it snowed all year round, called ironically, as the kingdom of green. Perhaps the rulers had thought this would be bring the kingdom more warm days, which were crucial as the kingdom almost completely relied on agriculture. It was the largest kingdom but no one else desired the frozen lands, so its boundaries had changed little over the years and the quiet kingdom barely had an existing army. For the most part, the kingdom of yellow left them alone, but now they were facing a shortage of food as all their money went into developing the military and indulging the royals. Alfred decided to bring along Matthew and a few other advisers and servants to visit the kingdom and settle some trade agreements. Understanding the difference in power and defense, Alfred knew the kingdom of green couldn't say no. It was most likely be a weapons-for-food trade, though the kingdom had little use for weapons.

Alfred had chosen to visit on one of the warmest days of the year. Yet, the air was still chilly and melting snow piled on drooping branches. But travelling through the countryside in the royal carriage brought back fond memories for Matthew. Before he was told by Alfred's caretaker, Francis, that he was the man's twin, before he became Alfred's guard, before he had even set foot in the kingdom of yellow, Matthew had spent a few years in the kingdom of green. Because of reasons he had yet to discover at that time, he and Miss. Braginskaya, who he called Katyusha, had always been on the run, travelling to all places except the kingdom of yellow. It was fun however, picking up many different languages and learning many different things. He was seven when they moved to the kingdom of green. Katyusha took up odd jobs and one day, as Matthew played in the snow, he found a little girl weeping in clothes too grand to be that of a commoner. He was even more shocked however when he realized her eyes were purple, a shade deeper than his. She was sad and ran away because of reasons Matthew had found childish, but he comforted her and offered to take her back to her home to sort things out. She was reluctant but had been elated to see someone with the same special eyes. Matthew convinced her and as she gave directions, she seemed impressed that he was giving such good advice. Travelling extensively had made him wise beyond his years. However, he was surprised at being lead to the doors of the royal palace and although he wanted to run away right there, the larger girl had held him back and insisted on introducing him to her parents. Her parents seemed rather pleased at the boy and soon, he found himself on play dates with the princess, whose name was Anya. Katyusha even became a maid in the royal household. But even though Katyusha smiled everyday and talked about how much more luxurious life now was, he could see the fear hidden in her eyes. They had always kept a very low profile wherever they went and Matthew had learnt from hateful whispers behind closed doors that it was something about his strange, purple eyes. He still felt that he was to blame for cursing the both of them to years of nomadic wandering, but Katyusha had told him never to feel an ounce of guilt at his uniqueness. The people of the kingdom of green might accept that their princess had purple eyes, but Matthew was a mysterious dirt-poor outsider who suddenly shot up in status by being their princess's childhood companion. The truth could not be avoided so two years later, when Katyusha snuck him out of the bedroom in the dead of a night and Matthew found their luggage packed and standing by the royal palace's doors, he had followed her out and said nothing.

So much has changed since then, he reminisced. After Katyusha's death, he went to kingdom of yellow because it was only place left he had not travelled to. He never understood why Katyusha avoided it. The royal palace was in need of chefs and Matthew had won the contest using his knowledge of various exotic dishes. He worked in the palace and slowly fell in love with Alfred's voice and smile, trying to work his way up to get closer to him. But now was the time to take a trip down memory lane. He really couldn't wait to see Anya again.

"Greetings, your Highness, I am Alfred Kirkland Jones, the Prince of Yellow. I have come to strengthen relations between our two nations and establish trade agreements."

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Prince Jones. I hope you enjoy your stay here, da? Allow us to discuss matters over a cup of tea."

Once formalities were out of the way, Alfred and Matthew found themselves seated on comfortable wood and fabric chairs in the flowery, pastel green and pink living room of the royal palace, their cups glinting under the rosy light of the small crystal chandeliers. It was pretty and comfortable to the eye, unlike the flashy, bright gold and blue layout of their palace. The princess seemed slightly nervous and kept smoothing out her long white hair.

"It's really nice to see you Matvey, it's been such a long time!"

Matvey?

"It's nice to meet you again too, Anya. Wow, so much has changed, or at least for me.  
So, er, how's life?"

"Comfortable but not very exciting I suppose, nothing ever really goes on around here. But I am quite happy that we had a decent harvest this year. Do you still remember the time…?"

The duo went on talking about old times and what went on while they were separated. Neither of them noticed the darkening eyes of Alfred, staring at his cup of tea like he was going to set it on fire. As Anya smiled and giggled, Matthew noticed the way her eyes, an even more vivid and rich shade of purple than his, sparkled under the pink-tinted light, the way her glossy pink lips curved up at the tips, so sweet, so pure, so…Alfred-like.

He wondered if Anya had ever been even more than a friend.  
He just smiled back and laughed at her joke.

Neither of them noticed the way Alfred's nails dug into the pale green fabric of the chair or the way his eyes seem to glint with a spark of something dangerous.

Anya placed another layer of gel onto her hair, frantically touching up her make-up. It had been a day since Matthew arrived and they had stayed overnight. How had he thought of the palace? Was there anything he didn't like? Oh no, what if she screwed up with her welcome and he was just too polite to say it? Did she look ugly? She certain didn't expect him to arrive! She wiped off some excess eyeliner with a handkerchief. To be honest, it was years of practice that had stopped her from completely panicking or fainting when her childhood friend showed up on her doorstep. She had been given the shortest notice that Prince Jones was arriving and she had no clue that Matthew would be with him. She received not a word from him after he left. But probably unbeknownst to him, she had waited all this time to meet him again and even tried to track him down, but it soon evident that he was no longer in the kingdom and of course, the other kingdoms wouldn't appreciate her poking into their territory to try and find him. When she was a child, she thought of him as a friend and was sad when he left. She was not stupid and knew the adults thought her sadness would wash away with time and she would forget about it. For some time, she thought that too. But he never left her mind and her sadness only deepened. It didn't seem like the most remarkable thing to happen to her, so she had no idea why it left such a mark on her. Then, slowly, inching and sinking into the depths of her heart, it reached the bottom one day and it hit her, just a few days after her thirteenth birthday, it hit her. She loved him. She sometimes wondered if it was better that she didn't realized that, it became so painful. She felt her mascara start to blotch up as tears rimmed in her eyes. If only he knew. If only he knew he was so much more to her when she was probably just a random girl he met in his long years of travelling, maybe even less than a friend. But it didn't matter now, even if he would not know of her love. All she needed was to see him again and chat together and to know he was okay. She could keep her distance and her feelings secret. She would try to keep him here for long as he could and maybe she could even persuade him to stay, but knew silently in her heart than Prince Jones would not allow him to. Which was better? For her heart to be filled with silent longing or for her to be filled with imaginary hope, only be broken once again when he left? She tried to quash that thought. No, it was alright. He was already right here in her palace; she couldn't let herself be greedy. After all, maybe that prince would be kind enough to let them keep in contact through mail. They may not see each other a lot, but it would be better than nothing. She was glad his life was safe and luxurious now. Now all she needed was to find out how Matthew felt about her. She didn't let herself think how she would bear with possible rejection, it was too staggering.

"Anya? Are you fine? You've been in there for quite a while."

Hearing Matthew's voice, she quickly touched up the last of her makeup. She steeled herself. Should she do it now? Well no better time than the present.

"Sure thing, Matvey, just come in!"

The boy nervously stepped into the princess's room, a cute but somewhat anxious smile gracing his lips. He stood there awkwardly, twisting his foot a bit, his mouth opened slightly, like he was hesitating to break a matter to her. Something was on his mind.

"Hey…erm, Anya, I was wondering if you could go see something I made. It only looks good at night, with a lack of light and all. It'll be in the second courtyard. Come by yourself, I want it to be a surprise."

"Really? O-Oh wow, Matthew… well sure I'll come!"

"Thanks so much!"

For a moment, before he turned and left, his smile seems a bit too plastic, a bit too forced. Probably just her imagination. Really, why would she care about that, what Matthew said sounded like a candlelit date! He had asked her out! She hadn't needed to confess a thing; he felt the same way all the time.

_The night before_  
Matthew twisted and turned in his bed, trying to go to sleep in the beautiful chartreuse silk bed in the guest room of the palace. He was confused, to say in the least. He had no idea how he felt about Anya, especially after he met her today. He conveniently decided Anya was a friend in the time after he left the kingdom of green, but meeting her triggered memories and seeds of doubt had started sprouting in his heart. He knew what was love and he knew he loved Alfred. But everything, the way he looked and thought of her, the way he was just slight bit nervous and happy and everything in one when she was around, the way he longed for her smile the same way he longed for a certain other person's… (Although deep in his heart, he would admit he yearned for Alfred's joy more). Still did it suggest he loved her too? Did he really love Anya? It did seem like so, but oh gosh, was he two-timing then?

He flipped from lying sideways and as he lay on his back, a pair of cerulean blue eyes came into his vision.

It was hard work having to lace the corset, put on an elaborate dress, apply makeup and slip on high heels all by herself. But it was necessary as Matthew wanted to keep it a secret, Not that she minded, she too would like a bit of privacy every once in a while. Fortunately for her, her personal servants were a trio of cowardly and excessively servile men who, upon hearing they had been excused for the day , with Anya's words carrying the implication that they left her alone, they had all but scrambled to make it out the door first. She adjusted her tiara and looked into the mirror. Her small crown was made from pink silver, her lips glossed, her dress a pale amaranth pink lined with green frills and her high heels a rich Byzantium purple paired with white stockings. She had looked better than this before, but she didn't have her servants around now and she was running out of time anyway. Just as she turned to reach for the doorknob, someone knocked twice and the door swung open. She gasped. Matthew was dressed in a neatly pressed, pristine white suit adorned with buttons the same shade as his dazzling golden blonde hair and matching cufflinks. His silk tie and leather shoes were the same mesmerizing purple as his eyes. He extended a white-gloved hand towards her. "May I escort you to this night's venue, Princess?" he asks, his voice sweet, smooth and velvety, like a silk blanket wrapped around Anya on a cold winter night, the warmth of his words seeping into her. He smiled, locking eyes with her and giving her a seductive wink. For a moment, Anya thought she saw a spark of sadness, maybe regret, from deep within those violet depths, but she brushed it away, caught in her swooning over his wink. She placed her hand on his and he led her on a more deserted route towards the second courtyard. It was a smaller, less grander version of the first, found in a remote corner outside the palace and rarely used. It was just outside the nearby forest and a river flowed through the right fringes of the location.

Anya's eyes widened at the makeover Matthew had given it. The grass had been neatly trimmed, forming a soft, luscious surface under her feet. The moonlight shone down on beds of blooming purple heather and Russian sage, glistening with melting frost. Lavender banners were strung up on the nearby forest trees, sweet-smelling candles burning on the branches. He had somehow attracted fireflies to the river, the beautiful tiny balls of light shining like the stars in the night sky. From somewhere, the tune of a romantic song played softly, the velvety melody wafting lightly through the ambrosial air. A small table with dishes of good food, roses, floral tea candles stood to a side.

"Oh wow Matvey…this is amazing…"

"Your words are too kind, Princess. There is a good dinner waiting for us. But first, a little waltz. May I have this dance?"

Still struck by the wonder of the display, she took his hand and they started to dance to the slow music. The romance, the beauty, the perfection of the situation was almost dream-like. Matthew broke into an alluring smile that took her breath away, looking at her squarely with his ever-enchanting eyes, tinted with mischief. She didn't wake up; she wanted to stay asleep forever. He started taking bigger steps, tugging on Anya slightly to tell her not to back away. Soon, they were dancing so closely, they were barely moving and were in each other's arms, their hot breath intermingling, Matthew's suit pressed against her chest. He leaned his head forward and Anya took the hint. She crossed the space, a pair of sweet, soft, slightly glossed lips placed gently upon hers. When they kissed, everything became even more dream-like, so much slower, like she was spending an eternity in those enchanting seas of violet, filled mysteriously with such immense sorrow. They clouded up and she could taste the salt dripping down on the edge of her lips and that was the last thing she felt, that slight wetness, before something cold and sharp hit her in the back of neck and her beautiful world shattered into oblivion.

_I'm so, so sorry.  
You have no idea._

_I had to do this; I just had to, alright?_

_Does it hurt? I hope it didn't, but I hurt so much, over here in my chest and I don't know why.  
I'm so confused, but I know I should forget you and I'm sorry. He will smile for me but thank you for smiling for me too, for all the good times, for as long as that lasted.  
You're a sweet child Anya, I should not, no I must not, on his orders, miss you but I'm sure someone else will._

It really didn't make sense, why water kept getting in his vision when it wasn't raining, why his heart refused to settle down, why he was racking with sobs. He loved Alfred and only Alfred, right? The boy had arrived last night and they had been through everything and Matthew was so sure. But he was right. It didn't matter now. Anya was dead. Alfred was the only one left who could laugh with him and talk with him and smile so sweetly for him. He looked up from the dead body and saw Alfred's beautiful smile and thought, yes, he could do this, he could, no had to, forget all of this and move on and be with him.

An ice pick. That was all they had used. The lone murder weapon, pricking a small hole that can barely be seen, but fatal if driven deep into the right place. The ice melts away and the murder never happened.

They wake up the next day in their beds in the guest room and the kingdom is in mourning, reeling with sorrow and shock. It was a tragedy but an accident. Their beloved princess had snuck out alone for a night swim in the river near the second courtyard and accidentally drowned. The atmosphere is tepid. None of the officials are in the mood for further negotiations but the recently established agreements are wrapped up and finalized. As the carriage heads off from the palace, Alfred and Matthew say nothing but both feel the gaze of the royals burning into the back of their heads. The gaze of people who know everything, all the things you hide while you thought you were so clever, thinking they would never know. But they do. And they will do something about it, perhaps not now but eventually.

The royals of the kingdom of green were not stupid.

There were traces at the scene and whispers passed from ears pressed to walls and eyes pressed to windows, though not enough to amount to anything technically.  
But they knew, they all knew and all there was to do was to wait, was to plot, was to try and make it amount to something concrete, was to strike at the best possible moment.

The situation in the kingdom of yellow was dire. The royals could pretend all they want, hiding behind plastic smiles, good clothes and good food, but deep inside their hearts, they all knew. The kingdom was in ruins, filled with famines, droughts and plagues, people were dying of diseases and hunger and left to die on sunbaked dirt roads. There was strife and there were uprisings, calls of the long-suffering majority. They could ignore all this but sooner or later, trouble would come knocking on their door, or rather slam a battle ram through it. There was only so much they could rob and pilfer from the peasants before empty-handed dead bodies had nothing left to give. But the door had yet to be knocked down, trouble still on her way. So of course they pretended, of course they ignored it, of course they told themselves these filthy underlings would never be able to affect the extravagant lives they had and deserved. There were still those who knew nothing about this or somehow managed to tell themselves it just wasn't happening. They kept these people in the dark of course, better a blind man than a fool.

And Matthew knows no matter how bad it gets that he still has Alfred. He still has the same innocent boy who couldn't care less about these tiresome affairs, who chose to frolic his days away with afternoon coffee and butter, little action figurines and the latest video games. He was just a kid, he deserved his little bubble and whether he was really ignorant of what was going on outside the palace was of no importance. Matthew would protect him and make sure he got what he wanted and he would always have the same well-off, extravagant life. He arrives in the tearoom at exactly three o'clock sharp and Alfred is already seated there, because no matter what, their mother had always told them never to be late for afternoon tea. You go out on the streets and you couldn't buy a piece of bread with your house not because your house is not worth enough but because there isn't even simple, basic bread to begin with. Here in the palace's tearoom, Matthew places upon the solid gold table a crystal plate of fragrant freshly baked brioche enriched with butter and eggs.

"Today's snack is brioche."

"What is the bloody hell is brock, you wanker, bloody French thing it must be. How do you even say it…broch, broish, bruise, brack, oh whatever. "

Matthew laughs at Alfred's bad, butchered up imitation of their mother's cockney accent. It was traditional to have brioche for tea in the palace but Alice would say the same thing every time, almost out of principle. Alfred just flashes him a bright, heart-melting smile and bites into the rich, smooth pastry.

A/N: This is the first half, I'll write the rest later :P Reviews are sweet and delicious, I feed on reviews ._. I don't want to starve in my writing cave ;u; Flame if you want to, I just use it to bake my review cookies and cook my review custard :D Constructive criticism also tastes quite yummy


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